


Zazz Voice: stick a pumpkin up your ASS

by Akeolo



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: Fluff, Foul Language, Gen, Modern AU, dick jokes cw, just general chaotic fall fun, just something quick and cute for halloween idk, tribe goes to a pumpkin patch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 20:49:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21259445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akeolo/pseuds/Akeolo
Summary: “Zazzalil, you can’t put that on a pumpkin.”“Why not?”“Kids trick-or-treat here!”The tribe goes to a pumpkin patch and carves pumpkins. Concept co-written by the-gays-who-did-like-musicals discord but written by yours truly





	Zazz Voice: stick a pumpkin up your ASS

**Author's Note:**

> SK discord gets some writing cred here, but I'll be assed if I'm going to find you all on this website.  
Shoutout to Jazz specifically for correcting my continual misspelling of the names of these characters who I love so dearly, and also for the title which they get the blame for :)
> 
> Anyway, this is just some dumb fun while I work on my Jazzalil coffeeshop AU, which is decidedly Not That. I may do more chapters of this, I may not. Let me know if you want it? <3

At Zazzalil’s war cry, the tribe leapt to the ground, a chorus of various grunts, groans, and their own forms of the yell to follow. The hay wagon was not yet quite stopped, and one of the employees turned to Jemilla, cutting off his own shout at the group. “They aren’t allowed to do that!” he protested.

Jemilla waited until the ride stopped moving before standing up. “Try telling them that,” she sighed, allowing him to give her his hand as she stepped down.

The tribe had immediately began a mad dash across the field with Zazzalil leading the charge, carrying a stick high over her head. The war cries continued as they ran past old ladies and dogs, neither of which looked very happy about the situation.  
“Guys! Wait for me!” Jemilla shouted, taking off after them in a sprint.

When she finally caught up, the tribe was standing huddled in a circle, blocking her view of what they were looking at. Jemilla pushed through to see Zazzalil crouched in the middle, stick discarded at her feet, both hands caressing the biggest fucking pumpkin Jemilla had ever seen. The tribe stared in wonder. Zazzalil looked up with wide eyes and an open-mouthed smile.

“Zazzalil, no—”

“But I can carry it!” Zazz jumped to her feet and held her hands together like she were praying. “Pleeeeeaaaaase!” she begged.  
Jemilla gave her a stern look, but Zazzalil did not relent. “Those puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time.”

Zazz pouted.

“We don’t have room in the car. I mean, look at it! It’s huge!”

Zazzalil sunk back down to the pumpkin, half laying on it and half cradling it. “That’s what makes it perfect,” she grumbled.

After looking on for a moment, Jemilla decided to just ignore her. “Okay, everybody, go find one!” She waved her hands in an effort to herd the whooping and cheering tribe, smiling after they’d scattered with her hands on her hips.

“I’m not leaving until you let me get this pumpkin,” Zazzalil said from the ground. Her voice was muffled as she was basically speaking into the pumpkin.

“We’ll see about that.”

The tribe was beaming as they met up again, comparing pumpkins and sipping hot apple cider from the little shop set up in the field. Emberly and Grunt had picked pumpkins that both had deformities but that when turned a certain way, fit perfectly against one another— like two pieces of a puzzle. They linked arms when both their hands were busy and looked cozy in their warm fall gear as they gazed, lovesick, at each other.

SB, on the other hand, did not look comfortable at all. He kept insisting—on their way out the door of the house they shared, in the car, on the wagon ride, and now again as he downed his cider in a single gulp— that he was perfectly fine in only shorts and socks with sandals. His pumpkin, which he said was the best one by far (which everyone said about their own pumpkins), was very tall. Jemilla was suspicious of the way he laughed when they asked him what he was going to carve into it.

Tiblyn had gone the opposite way of Zazzalil. She’d found the smallest carvable pumpkin and was cradling it protectively. When Ducker tried to touch it, she swatted his hand away, but she asked Chorn if it wanted to hold it. Chorn held a white pumpkin, which looked very odd but was pretty much perfectly round. It seemed to have a conversation with it every once in a while and had named it “Chorn”.

Ducker, who said that his pumpkin chosen him— through divine intervention or in the way that a dog chooses an owner, they didn’t know— held a very warty pumpkin with some discoloration. It was nothing special, but Ducker held it above his head as if it were a gift from on-high and spoke to it in a baby voice.

Schwoopsie’s goal had been to find the funniest looking pumpkin. It was red on top and looked like it had been squished in one direction and stepped on in the other, and did indeed look pretty funny. There was very little carving space, one had to note. Schwoopsie, like SB, refused to tell what she intended to carve, but not for lack of trying or intention to keep it a secret. She just couldn’t stop howling with laughter every time someone brought it up and couldn’t spit it out through her tears. Everyone just decided to wait and see if it was going to be that funny.

Keeri’s pumpkin was, well, not a pumpkin. The tribe had started to tell her but she didn’t understand that yes, Keeri, pumpkins are gourds, but not all gourds are pumpkins. The way she held it so sweetly and looked at it so lovingly made the tribe drop it in the end. She called the long green and yellow gourd her son.

Jemilla’s pumpkin was everything a pumpkin should be. She must have looked at every pumpkin in the patch before she found The One. Round, plump, deep orange, with a perfectly proportioned stem and no warts. It was perfect. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to carve, but she did have a Pinterest board full of ideas.

Zazzalil was still sitting on the huge pumpkin with her arms crossed, facing away from the group.

Jemilla sighed and walked over after she had finished her cider. One hand holding her pumpkin and the other on her hip, she said, “Zazzalil, come on. It’s getting late, pick one out so we can go.” She looked back at the tribe where SB was hugging his pumpkin to his chest like it had body heat. “I think Smelly Balls is getting frostbite.”

“I already picked one,” Zazzalil said, face scrunched.

“No. You’re going to get bored because it’s too big and then I’m going to have to do all your work for you, just like last year. We are absolutely not getting it.”

The pumpkin took up a whole third of the house’s dining room table.

Jemilla took over for Zazzalil when the girl said that she wanted to use a drill to make the gut scooping go faster. By the time she’d finished, Emberly had already baked pumpkin seeds for the tribe, which they enjoyed from the living room as they shouted over Super Smash Bros. She was now onto preparing a pumpkin pie, having agreed that they would all carve the actual faces of their pumpkins together.

Jemilla didn’t mind the extra work or missing out on SSB, she had to admit. Listening to her friends cheering and laughing was enough to make her enjoy the holiday traditions, even if they did always turn out this way.

The house shook when the group was called back in, especially because of SB’s whooping as he ran down the hall like a monkey, on his knuckles. The others joined him by pretending to parkour off the walls. Pure fucking chaos. Zazzalil stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Jemilla, mouthing a “thank you” as she passed. Ducker yelled as Schwoopsie put pumpkin down his shirt, then retaliated by slapping pumpkin in her hair.

Pure fucking chaos, and Jemilla wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Zazzalil, you can’t put that on a pumpkin.”

“Why not?”

“Kids trick-or-treat here!”

“I knew what that meant as a kid!!”

Zazzalil stepped back, the word FUCK written out in black sharpie across her pumpkin.

“Please do something else,” Jemilla said.

“Fiiine,” Zazzalil whined. “You’re no fun.” She stuck her tongue out at Jemilla over her phone, which she was now using to find a new idea. After a few seconds of scrolling, her eyes lit up. “Don’t look,” she warned, shielding her phone and an unused side of her pumpkin from Jemilla’s eyes.

“Okay, ready?” Jemilla said, holding her pumpkin close. “1… 2… 3!”

The tribe all turned their pumpkins (and gourd) around, beaming with pride at their own creations, before absolutely losing it over everyone else’s.

Smelly Balls carved a very… anatomically correct looking penis in his pumpkin. Jemilla pretended to be angry with him, if only as a show for Zazzalil, but had to laugh at the perfect shape the pumpkin was for such a work of art.

Tiblyn had carved the smallest possible face in her pumpkin. The pumpkin was very small, but the face she’d carved was tiny even in proportion. It looked so happy to be so small.

Jemilla did not know where, how, or when Chorn had gotten glitter, but its pumpkin was a holographic UFO, complete with stars and a tiny alien pilot. It was really impressive, actually.

Grunt had done a pretty amazing portrait of Emberly on his pumpkin. When it glowed, it had shading and everything. Emberly’s portrait of a turkey was better, though. Grunt thought they were doing portraits of each other.

Keeri had somehow managed to carve her gourd. It was a very crude picture of a cat face. “It’s Snarl!” she said, pointing to the old tan-orange tabby cat as he strutted into the room, meowed once, and left.

Ducker insisted that his duck pumpkin was God’s will and that he had not planned it out beforehand.

Schwoopsie’s pumpkin was set up with pulp flowing out of its mouth, face contorted as if it was puking its guts out. She bowled over in laughter at her own joke, which only made it funnier to everyone else.

Jemilla’s pumpkin was a gorgeously intricate silhouette of a bird sitting in some leafy branches. She was incredibly proud of herself because damn, carving pumpkins was way harder than she remembered it being as a kid.

Zazzalil had carved the flaming elmo meme into hers. It was probably the second most time she’d ever spent on a project involving sharp objects.

Jemilla was complimenting Zazzalil on her patience when the doorbell rang, followed by the door just slamming open anyway. The gang ran to the hallway and just about tackled their friend (and landlord) Molag.

The older woman accepted the copious amount of greetings before pushing the tribe off of her and presenting her own pumpkin. It was plastic, and it just had a real butcher knife sticking out the side of it.

The tribe paused for a moment before they cheered.

Everyone rushed to get their pumpkins outside and lit up, nearly slipping on pumpkin guts as they went. Jemilla refused to let Zazzalil drop her gigantic pumpkin in the house, so she insisted on helping her girlfriend carry it safely outside. Smelly Balls, in fact, did drop his pumpkin, but it survived the fall. In his words, “the penis is just too hard!”.

When they had finished, the porch flickered with the lights of all the pumpkins (and gourd). The night was cool and quiet, save for the crickets, and the tribe took a breath as they gazed at what they had made. They looked at each other, recognizing the same appreciation in each other’s eyes. Zazzalil put her arm around Jemilla’s waist as Jemilla’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. They were happy. For a moment, everything was slow. They were content.

“Uhh, Zazzalil, is your pumpkin smoking?” Keeri asked.


End file.
